Displaced
by Efiwyvan
Summary: Donatello goes on an unexpected trip to New England. Originally posted under the name AJ3.
1. Chapter 1

_Originally posted under the name **AJ3** on 10/10/00_

_This was one of the first stories I ever wrote. I really couldn't resist, being from Springfield/Chicopee, myself :) I believe that when I wrote this I had it based in the original cartoon universe, but there isn't really much to give that away, so it should fit into any of the other universes, as well. Please check out my Author's Info page and follow the link to **Stealthy Stories** if you would like to know any more about it :)_

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**Displaced**

I love the quiet of night. Sometimes I find myself out on the rooftops, looking over the skyline of the city after the sun has slipped beneath the western horizon. There are so many people out there... each living their own life, each a part of their own story... and each story a part of another person's life. There is a circle that sees its way through the life of everybody in this city... that leads ever back again to where it began.

This is my world... our world... the world that my brothers and I have come to know... the world that doesn't know we exist. It has been the backdrop of our lives for as long as we can remember... but only the night city. In daylight we hide below, in the dark and damp of the sewers. We dare not show ourselves to the waking world... if there is one universal truth, it may just be that what sunshine forbids shadows allow.

But that is daylight... at night the world is different. At night we can do those things, we can strike out into the city that lives above our heads when we must stay hidden. That's why I love it so much... there is more to life than survival... for me, at least, life is enhanced by the simple act of being alone... of being able to close my eyes and breathe in the night air with stars rather than the cold concrete of New York City above me. Sometimes I just have to be by myself... just me and my thoughts.

Our lives haven't been easy by any means... we've had our share of tragedy. My brothers have all gone through the same things in life as I have, they just handle them differently... be it with anger or spirituality or humor... I'm supposed to be the quiet one. I'm the one that doesn't swear or throw tantrums... I'm supposed to be analytical, thinking things through and if I can't think through them I dive into my projects or bury my nose in a book or go online. They think I turn off my emotions when I do those things. They think they know me so well... they don't.

They don't know me deep down inside any more than I know them at that level. They don't know that sometimes I feel like exploding at someone over some trivial detail... they don't know that sometimes I feel like curling up into a ball and crying for hours... they don't know that sometimes I feel that I need to escape...

Mike, Raph, Leo... my brothers by choice and by fate. They are who they are... and I am just me, Don. I'm a secret, an enigma... just like them. I laugh with them, I spar with them, I go out on nightly patrols with them and I argue with them. Sometimes I wonder what goes through their minds, then I look into my own mind and I decide that I don't really want to know, after all.

One thing that I see there in my own thoughts often is the wanting to get out on my own. To leave the nest, follow the sun as it sets rather than just watching it go. To be away for just a while. This is the person I am when there is no one around. I felt this way before and I will again... there is no doubt in my mind of that. Sometimes, though, escape tends to bring itself to you... and you don't have a choice but to go along with it.

Then again, maybe you do.

Not too long ago, escape found me.

The rooftops grew cold that night and there was nothing to see through the fog so I took myself down onto the sidewalks of Manhattan. I had to keep my body hidden under a duster and my head covered with a watch cap. Nothing strange in this town, seeing a mysterious man with his collar pulled up to hide his face. People tend to leave you alone when you look like a crazy. A cop slowed down in his patrol car and gave me the once-over with his eyes. Guess I wasn't interesting enough, because he sped up and drove away.

The city never closes down, anybody who lives here can tell you that. There is always a place to get a bite to eat or to shop for clothes in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, there is also always a place to buy drugs or ammo. I was approached three times that night, the first time the guy wanted to know if I had any drugs to sell, the second guy tried forcefully to sell me some pills... the third person, a woman, wanted to sell me something else, entirely. Each time I gave them a free look at my face... that did the trick and I didn't have to tell them "no" twice.

I walked on, realizing again why I prefer the quiet solitude of the rooftops. It isn't all that bad down on the streets, there are people out there living from day-to-day, going to work and school and trying to get by... then, there are those few who stand out. Those are the ones you have to watch out for... they're the ones that have their own agendas and want to make them your personal responsibility. A few humans ruining life for the rest of their kind.

I wandered around to the different stores and shops that were still open, it had to have been around 10:30 or 11:00 PM and there were still many to choose from. All the while I kept my eyes open and my body alert, ready for anything... that is what my training had given me the instinct to do. Not all instincts come naturally...

Somehow I found myself at the Greyhound bus station, watching people come and go and secretly envying them. I sat and joked with myself. There's your escape, Don... just hop aboard, I thought, and for a long few minutes I actually considered it.

Mostly, though, I just sat and watched the parade of people coming in and going out. They were all stuck inside their own minds, going forth as their thoughts told them. I wondered how many had a choice about where they were going. How many were visiting relatives, how many were on business trips... how many were just out to escape...

My attention was pulled away from the parade by a man standing off in the corner. He was crying and talking to himself... he didn't look well. I knew in my logical mind that no good would come of approaching him, but as often happens in life, the logic lost out to the compassion. He seriously looked as if he needed help. It only took me three steps to reach where he was... he didn't even notice the big green stranger standing beside him.

"No more," he mumbled. "No, no more... I won't let you do it any more. I'll take a trip, I'll go now... on this bus... or the next one..."

He was rubbing his arm and, though I didn't know what he had coursing through his veins, I could tell that he was wanting for more. He was as drawn as any living human I'd ever seen, bloodshot eyes against pale white skin made him look almost alien... I wondered if he would make it through the night.

"Good-bye..." he said to himself, "I'm gonna' go now... I'm going home."

I knew that this was it for this man if something wasn't done. He was going to die tonight because of the poison he'd put into his body... he was either going to kill himself or let the drugs do it. I didn't know what I should do, so I just did it. I followed him to one of the gates and he walked out the door... I prepared myself to follow and stop him before he could board a bus and go off to do whatever it was he had planned... whatever it was that the high told him he should do.

"Excuse me," a voice came from behind me and a hand rested itself on my arm. "Could you help me, please?"

I turned to see a little old lady with a ticket in her hand. She was staring down at the paper with her eyebrows drawn together. "Could you tell me where the bus for Newark is boarding?" she said in a small voice, a slight smile on her face.

"Gate 47," I said quickly, knowing the answer only because I'd seen it up on the boarding screen earlier. "Just keep to the left, up this way," I told her, pointing.

She smiled wider and nodded at me, looking at my half-hidden face through her thick glasses. "Thank you, dear," she said as she proceeded up the ramp, taking barely half a step at a time. I guess she couldn't see my face too well, as she didn't run away or faint.

I pushed the distraction to the back of my mind and looked back to where the man had just been. He was gone now, out the door and likely on one of the busses. I slipped out and looked around. It wasn't hard to find him... I could see his deathly pale face through the tinted windows.

I knew immediately why he'd gotten on this bus, the driver wasn't at the door, where he should have been, taking tickets. He must have been distracted by something and walked away. I used that advantage to slip onboard, as well. The stranger was in the second seat from the front and was shaking, still talking to himself. I stepped up to him and was about to reach down and take him by the arm when I saw something shiny beneath his coat... the driver chose that poor moment to get on the bus.

Looking at me and the stranger, he pursed his lips together. "Do you two have tickets?"

"We were just leaving," I said calmly, trying not to surprise the man... the man that had a gun pointed at the back of the person in front of him. "Weren't we...?"

"What?" the stranger said. "I'm going for a ride. I'm going..."

I was about to step in, to take the gun, when a kid reached out and pulled the man's hair. "You aren't supposed to be here," the little girl said.

I bit down hard... this wasn't going to be good.

Before I could react, the man was on his feet and had the child held close to him. The gun glinted in the artificial light as he pushed it into her back.

She let out a little yell of surprise. "Hey, that hurt!" she said, twisting in his grip. The mother, just feet away, began to scream.

"Don't..." the stranger said, "Just drive... driver? Just drive."

The driver began to run off the bus. I grabbed him by the nape of the neck and pulled him into his seat. I wasn't about to let this child lose her life because of this man's cowardice.

"Do it," I growled, putting my face in the driver's own. He gasped and I showed my teeth. That convinced him and the door was shut a second later.

"Go to... uh..." the gunman stuttered. "Take me home. Take me to Springfield."

"Springfield? Which one?" the driver asked nervously. "Massachusetts?"

The stranger shook his head an affirmative and the driver stuck the bus in reverse. The mother was crying now, sobbing hysterically, and the little girl was angry... she had no idea what this man could do, she didn't know that this man was holding her little life in his hands.

"Everybody... go back!" the man yelled, suddenly sounding much more lucid. "Back... to the back of the bus."

Slowly, people slid back towards the restroom, the child's mother and I remaining at the front of the pack. She had tears streaming down her cheeks and buried her face deep into my duster. I did the best I could to comfort her with a supporting arm and a softly spoken "It will be alright." I wanted to promise her that I would take this guy down, that I would save her little girl... but that was a promise that I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep. I silently damned myself for not taking action earlier, before he'd had the chance to do this.

As we drove on, I thought... I tried to calculate how fast I would have to go to save the little girl, the best spot to hit the guy, the best time to launch my attack... none of my calculating did any good. There is just no way to count the life of a child as a variable. Time went by slowly and I knew that we would be near Massachusetts soon, if we weren't already there. Three hours... four hours... a long time to think something through. I couldn't think my way out of this one, though.

People ignored me and each other as they watched the gunman... he was as awake as he had been before and more determined than ever. As many times as I turned it over in my head, I knew that I wouldn't be able to disarm the man before he had the chance to pull the trigger.

Opportunity presented itself almost at the end of the journey. A minivan pulled in front of us and the bus driver turned the wheel hard to keep from hitting it, making the bus swerve. The stranger lost his grip on the now-sleeping child and she tumbled to the aisle between the seats. I lunged forward, jumping over her and putting my body between the gun and the girl. The man pulled the trigger.

I felt a jolt in my arm as I swung out and gave the man a hard punch across the face. I must have hit him pretty hard because that was all it took. He wobbled where he stood for a few seconds and the gun tumbled to the floor of the bus, he joined it a moment later. I grabbed him by the collar and threw him into a seat. It was only then that I realized that I had been shot.

Around me people were applauding and patting me on the shell. The mother was crying and holding tightly to the little girl, who was already back to sleep in her arms. One man picked up the gun and knocked out the bullets, two others took up guard positions on either side of the unconscious gunman.

I had blood running from my arm, dripping to the floor and onto the people around me. I pressed my right hand against the wound and winced at the sting. This was going to have to be treated soon from the feel of it... not a likely prospect, being a couple hundred miles from anyone that knew I existed.

I pushed my way back past the crowd of people seeking their seats and went into the small restroom. My shell barely fit through the door and the inside was about as cramped a space as I've ever been in. I twisted myself and pressed my body against the wall enough to get the door shut. The light turned on automatically when I locked the door and I was almost blinded by it... I had forgotten how dark the interior of the bus had been.

There was no way that I would be able to get my duster off in that tiny little place, so I did my best to pull the sleeve up so I could examine my wound... it hurt to try, but I managed. The bullet hole was halfway between my left elbow and shoulder, thankfully the bullet had missed bone... not so thankfully, it was still lodged there in my flesh. It hadn't hurt all that bad when it happened, I guess the adrenaline had blocked out the pain for a few seconds. Regardless, at that moment it hurt like hell.

Blood flowing down my arm dripped into the tiny bowl that passed for a Greyhound sink. There was no running water from the faucet, either... I supposed those things were just there to look at. The best I could find to clean myself up with were some handi-wipes from a dispenser on the wall... they smelled like lemon and didn't help much to get the blood off my skin... there was no way I was going to use them to clean out the wound... still, I pocketed a few just in case.

Under my black watch cap I still had my bandanna on, so I took it off and wrapped it around my arm just above the wound. Using just my right hand and my teeth I tied it as tight as I could to stop the flow of blood. It wasn't pretty, but it would do. I found myself wishing that Mikey was there... he has always been good at first-aid.

I jumped at a knock on the door and nearly fell back onto the blue-water toilet.

"Occupied!" I called out, pulling my sleeve back down over my arm.

"You okay, man?" a teenager's voice came back. "Do you need any help in there?" I smiled despite myself. He wouldn't have been able to fit in there with me if I did want his help.

"I'm good," I replied, putting my watch cap back on. "I'll be out in a second."

"Ok," he said. "I thought you'd like to know... we're in Springfield now. The driver radioed ahead for the cops and an ambulance to meet us at the station. You'll be able to get that arm fixed up."

I gritted my teeth. Cops were just what I didn't need. Then there was that other little problem... I was a few states away from anyone that could help me with my arm. I made another quick decision and unlatched the door, backing out as best I could without getting my shell stuck. I was all the way out when I finally turned to look at the young man who had been talking to me through the door. He gasped and fell back into the aisle. I smiled at him as I pushed open an escape window and jumped off the moving bus - straight into the middle of Springfield, Massachusetts.

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Continued... 


	2. Chapter 2

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I hit the pavement hard and went into a graceless roll, somehow ending up on my feet at the end of it. I stood in the middle of the city street and watched the bus go around the corner, disappearing from sight. My arm was still hurting... worse, even, than before. I pushed my already blood-covered hand against the ripped sleeve and gritted my teeth. Then I looked around.

From what I could see, Springfield was a little like New York. But it was quiet... not totally silent, but much more so than I ever remembered the Big Apple being... even at around three in the morning... or was it four AM?

There weren't any people out. I'd always been used to having stores open and cars rushing by at all hours. This place was nearly a ghost town in comparison. I felt almost like I was lost in an episode of _The Twilight Zone_. The city looked like New York... but that was all. It sure didn't feel like it.

Still, it was interesting. I walked down one street and then another and saw maybe a total of three people and seven cars. It could have been that it was a Sunday, or the section of town... but what I saw was a whole lot of alone. And I liked it.

Regardless, I had problems. The ache in my arm was growing and the makeshift tourniquet wasn't doing as well as I had hoped it would. Blood soaked into the arm of my duster and ran down to my fingertips, dripping onto the ground and leaving an eerie trail behind me. I was letting my arm hang... a mistake. I forced my arm out of the sleeve and rearranged the fabric into a stopgap sling to keep the limb from hanging. It would do for a while, but I knew that I had to get some professional help. Unfortunately, that meant I had to find a professional.

Luck met me halfway when I spotted a familiar blue sign with a big white _**H**_ on it. The arrow pointed straight ahead and I walked on in the dark, cradling my injured limb. The name on the building was Mercy Hospital and I let myself take in the sight for a while... I certainly hoped they would be merciful.

I found my way back to the staff parking lot and waited, watching the door. Eventually a woman walked out - clean-cut and professional-looking. I hated to do what I had to do, but I approached her as she reached her car.

"Are you a doctor?" I asked.

The woman jumped and spun. Quick as any human I've ever seen, she had a can of pepper spray aimed at my eyes. I was quick, too, and she missed my face completely with the spray. She didn't even realize that I'd taken the can until she looked in her hand.

"Are you a doctor?" I repeated.

"Get the hell away from me!" she yelled, throwing a punch that landed itself on my wound. I fought back a sound of surprise, but still flinched at the pain. It was a dark parking lot... good thing, or else she might have seen the biggest grimace in Southern New England.

I backed a step away and she reached for the handle of her car door, keeping her eyes on me... then her eyes wandered to my arm and the blood dripping off it onto the ground. She looked at her own blood-covered fist and I turned to walk away... I wasn't going to bother her anymore, there had to be someone else a little more responsive to deal with.

"I'm a nurse," I heard her say softly.

I looked back over my shoulder at her. She couldn't see my face and wasn't looking at it... her thoughts and eyes were focused on my arm. I saw the human's compassion triumph over good sense as she approached me and touched my arm... the action reminded me of when, just a few hours before, I had let my compassion overwhelm my logic and I followed the gunman onto the bus. A mixed blessing, that had been. I'd managed to save the life of a child and maybe even more people, but I'd also managed to strand myself in a strange city. I hoped that I wouldn't screw anything else up before morning.

"What happened?" she asked, trying to see past the bloody cloth.

"I was shot," I replied, stating the blindingly obvious.

"You should go to the emergency room."

"I can't."

"Why?"

I shrugged and drew in a breath at the sting that accompanied it. "I can't"

She backed a step away and put her hand on her car again. "Are the police after you?" she asked nervously.

"No."

"Then... why? No insurance?"

I knew that it had to come down to a point where I would have to reveal the truth if I intended to get any help. I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled my sleeve to the side, revealing the green, very non-human skin underneath. She covered her mouth and let out a squeak... and fainted dead away.

That didn't do me much good. I needed someone's help, though, and wasn't going to show myself to everybody in the hospital in the hopes that maybe one of them wouldn't be shocked by my appearance. This nurse would have to do. I kneeled down and shook her lightly, trying to rouse her from her unexpected nap... if both arms had been in good condition I might have just carried her into the hospital. After about a minute of trying I finally managed to wake her. She looked up at me and smiled.

"Just tell me I'm dreaming," she said, "and I'll do whatever you need done."

I smiled back, she actually believed she was dreaming. "Sure it's a dream," I told her.

"And you're a frog," she said, extending her hand to me. "Help me up."

"A turtle, actually," I told her, reaching down with my good arm. She took hold of my green hand without so much as a moment's hesitation.

"Whatever."

I'm not even sure now whether she trusted me or if she was still wrapped up in her delusion that she was in a dream world, but she led me inside the hospital, glancing around corners to be sure that I wasn't seen. We walked quietly and I did my best to keep the blood from my wound from leaving a tell-tale trail to wherever she was leading me. It was odd... being in a hospital. That was the first time in my life that I had even been near one and now I was finding myself sneaking through the corridors, ducking and weaving to avoid the glances of doctors, nurses, orderlies, and patients... I felt like Richard Kimball in The Fugitive.

Eventually we got to a darkened room and the nurse ushered me inside before her. She flipped the lights on to reveal a pretty standard-looking room, if all the hospital rooms that I've seen in movies were accurate representations, that is. There was a single bed, several cabinets and one very mean-looking stainless steel tray that, thankfully, didn't have any of the objects of terror on it that I'd also seen in all those movies.

"Sit down," the woman said, motioning toward the bed as she shut and locked the door.

I leaped up onto the bed and struggled out of my duster, tossing it to the far end of the paper-covered mattress. I took my hat off, too, and suddenly felt very exposed.

"Hey," she said with a half-smile, "You really are a turtle."

"Have been all my life," I replied with a grimace as I took my blood-soaked elbow pad off of my left arm. The leather was stained almost black... I tossed it down beside my hat.

The woman opened a cabinet and started taking down plastic-covered implements that vaguely resembled those objects of terror I had just been thinking about. "Can you tell me what happened to your arm?" she asked, pulling on a pair of latex gloves.

I pressed my hand against the hole in my flesh and gritted my teeth. "It's a long story, actually..."

"Go to it..." she took the instruments out of the plastic and put them down on the metal tray, making an eerie clang in the silence of the room. "By the way, my name is Linda."

"Donatello," I told her. "But go ahead and call me Don... most everybody does, anyway."

"Okay, Don," she said with a kind smile as she untied the headband from above my wound. "Press here..." she pushed my hand harder against the hole. "What happened?"

As I talked, she went to work on my arm. The fixing-up of the wound hurt about ten times worse than the injury, itself. We both decided that anesthesia was out of the question. My physiology was basically alien to her... there was no telling what even local anesthesia would do to me. So I bit down... hard... the worst part was when she had to dig out the bullet still lodged in my muscle. I fought back the pain and told her the whole story of how I came to be so far from where I belonged... the telling helped to distract me a little, but mostly it was just an interesting story. I could tell that she thought so, too.

"You're a hero, then," Linda said, passing the needle through my skin for another stitch. "I'm honored."

"Honored?" I said, a bit skeptical. "For what?"

"You're too modest," she stated with a smile. "I bet you keep to yourself a lot, don't you?"

"You could say that."

She put the needle down on the tray and picked up a piece of gauze, pressing it against my freshly-repaired arm. "Read a lot?"

"Yeah."

"Like what? Poetry?"

I smiled and shook my head. "No... my brother Mike likes poetry, though. I stick to technical stuff... science and mathematics and theory... pretty dry stuff as far as my brothers think."

"Ever read the dictionary?"

I let out a little laugh. "Only when I can't sleep."

Linda was nice. One of those humans that I could really get to like if time would allow. But, as it was, time wouldn't. There was one window in the little hospital room and it was clear that the sun was on it's way up... I had to get myself out of public and to a phone... maybe I could get hold of April... that would be the only way I'd be able to get hold of Master Splinter and the others. I knew they had to be worried about me being out so late. As far as they knew, I was still in New York.

"Something wrong?" Linda asked, looking at me. I hadn't noticed how far I'd let my mind wander.

"I need to call my family," I told her. "They have no idea..."

I stood up and Linda helped me into my duster. "You can use my car phone," she said.

I was about to thank her when we heard the jingle of keys in the door.

"Damn!" I said, running for the window. It was locked... and I wasn't about to break it to get out. The door swung open and I made a break for it, knocking down the person who was there... the keys went flying. I felt bad for not thanking Linda or saying goodbye, but deep down I think she understood. I hoped that I hadn't gotten her in any trouble.

I ran through the hospital, taking the same route that Linda had used to lead me to the room by. I burst out the hospital doors like a bat out of Hell. It was getting too bright outside for me to be exposed... people were driving in the parking lot, swerving so as not to hit the odd green stranger that suddenly appeared before them. Worse of all, I'd left my watch cap in the hospital room. My presence was very obvious and there were more than a few gasps of surprise from the people around me.

So I ran.

I ran as fast and as far as I could, making my way past curious people and barking dogs. I ran until I was out of breath... then I ran some more. I found myself an alley and trotted down it, hoping to find a welcoming sewer grate. I didn't, but at least there was a quiet corner hidden behind a row of dumpsters. I leaned against the building's brick wall and lowered myself to the ground, fighting to catch my breath. I was tired and hungry... and I was alone.

I put my hands into the pockets of my duster and felt something there... a piece of paper. I pulled it out and took a look at a ten dollar bill that hadn't been there when I left New York. I smiled to myself.

_Linda,_ I thought. _Thank you._

I returned the money to my pocket and leaned my head back, closing my eyes. Despite my exposure, I fell asleep with a smile on my face... I dreamed about home and strange places and humans that belied the uncaring image they so often give themselves. I slept.

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Continued...


	3. Chapter 3

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It was a few hours later when I woke up, the sun was bright above me and I assumed it was some time around noon. I was still alone, though - no police cars, no sirens, no strangers passed out from fright... that was a good sign, at least. But I was hungry and still too exposed to bring myself out into the streets... I didn't even have my bandanna for cover. I closed my eyes and imagined a pizza a la Michaelangelo... one of his specialties... maybe pineapple and spinach. I thought to myself that I could almost smell the cheese and tomato sauce. I opened my eyes when I realized that I really **was **smelling it.

I crouched and peeked into the street beyond the dumpsters. It was more like New York in the daytime than it had been at night... people were rushing past and cars were creeping along slowly, pausing and proceeding to the beat of the traffic lights. Through the familiar smell of exhaust I sensed the pizza again... and then I saw the place that could provide me with one.

The sign read _Rose's Pizza_ and a take-out number was painted on the window. I smiled and set the number to memory; ten dollars wouldn't buy a very big pie or provide much of a tip, but it would certainly stop the hunger pangs. First, though, I had to get out of the alley.

I looked up and saw clothes lines strung across between the two buildings that flanked me. On one of the lines hung a set of baby clothes and another was occupied exclusively by underwear and socks. Neither of those lines would do me much good. What I really needed was something to cover my head... and people don't usually hang hats out to dry... I'd have to take other steps.

I slunk along the wall to the corner nearest the street. Nobody saw me there, so I paused in wait. People were walking quickly by, some of them wearing hats to block out the breeze. I hate to steal... I wondered what Master Splinter would think of what I was about to do. I began to recall a lesson that he had given us early on. Forbidding stealing wasn't something he could do, considering the nature of our lives. Nobody was supposed to know we existed... it wasn't as if we could just go out and get jobs and go shopping. Survival dictated the occasional act of thievery for us... but only in certain situations. Sensei beat it into our heads regularly that if he ever caught us stealing for any other reason he would teach us a new lesson. I remember when Splinter taught Raph that lesson for stealing a remote control car... it took my brother an hour to stop his lip from bleeding. Splinter can be a hard teacher, but Raph learned... and we all had an example to take to heart. Though I had to wonder, as I stood there in the alley, if Master Splinter would consider this necessary for survival... stealing a hat so I could buy a pizza.

A big man wearing a brown watch cap walked close to the alley. I reached out and snatched the hat from his bald head, sliding back into the shadows before he even realized he was uncovered. I peered at him from behind the dumpsters as he stopped and felt his head, looked around the sidewalk, felt his head again, looked into the street, and felt his head again. I wondered how many times he would feel his head before he realized that it was, indeed, uncovered. After about a minute of fruitless searching and feeling the top of his head the man shrugged and walked on.

_Probably,_ I thought to myself with a grin, _going home to tell his family that his old, raggedy hat had been stolen by poltergeists._

The hat wasn't pretty, but it fit perfectly. I slipped it on and pulled my collar up over my face as best as I could. I was a sight to behold, and not a presentable one, either... bloody sleeve and all. I searched my pockets for any change and came out with a quarter - ten cents short of enough to call to order the pizza on a payphone. I was going to have to go into Rose's and set the order. Not a good idea, considering the fact that cashiers usually like to see the faces of their customers.

The more I thought about it the more I realized that that couldn't happen. I'd never be able to go in and order the pizza without attracting the kind of attention that I really didn't need. I searched my mind for other options and came up with only one - I had to find a grocery store.

I set my feet to the concrete and began to walk down the sidewalk, keeping my face covered and head down. I tried to recall my knowledge of New Yorkers' behavior and apply it to the people walking past me in Springfield, Mass... I acted secretive and nuts. It worked... nobody gave me a second look and most didn't even grace me with a first.

After walking for a long while I finally managed to find my way to a shopping center. I looked up at the large letters that spelled out Stop & Shop and hunched my shoulders. This place would do nicely... now to go shopping. I spotted a man in a short cammo coat - he was hauling a bag out from the store to his car. I strolled over casually and stood behind him as he popped the trunk and put the bag inside. I cleared my throat to get his attention. Turning, he looked into my face and then did a double-take. I smiled wide and he jumped, falling back into the open trunk of his old Chevrolet.

I reached my uninjured arm down and offered him aid out. He just blinked and stared at my face as if he was seeing an alien. He didn't make a sound... not even a squeak. He just stared at me.

"I hate to ask this of you," I said, lowering my arm. "But may I go shopping in your groceries?"

He was still silent and unmoving... I wondered if he was even breathing. I sighed. It wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but it would do...at least he hadn't said no or screamed for the cops. I began to look through the bag and came out with a box of crackers, a jar of peanut butter, three apples, a can of Vienna sausages, and a small bottle of V-8 juice. I did some quick figuring in my head and decided that the total was close enough to ten dollars to call it even. I stuffed all the food into my duster's deep pockets and pressed the ten spot into the man's hand. He still didn't move.

"Thanks," I told him as I turned and walked away. I didn't bother to glance back to see if he was still in his trunk.

I strolled slowly down the street, munching on an apple as I went. I took in the sights and marveled at how Springfield seemed to be so much like home, and yet so different... I thought about my brothers and Splinter and April... I wondered if they were worried or if they were out looking for me... did they think something had happened to me? I wished I could get hold of them. I hadn't gone out prepared at all that evening. I didn't bring a bo or money or even my Turtlecom... I guess I was trying to be alone. I certainly ended up alone...

Being out on my own was a ride... a new feeling that I couldn't fight... and didn't want to lose. I was there, in a different state of the Union and a different state of mind. I almost liked it.

I walked under an overpass and tossed my apple core away, glancing up at the building in front of me.

"_Basketball Hall Of Fame_," I read the sign out loud. It was a nice building - and big. I wondered what it was like inside. I looked both ways and trotted across the street. The building was bigger close-up. There were prices listed on the door, though, and with no money I wasn't getting in. I shrugged to myself and walked on up the road.

I was minding my own feet when a guy in a broken-down old Ford slowed down and motioned to me. I turned my face away and waved him off. He leaned on his horn and yelled something I couldn't make out. I did my best to ignore him... I guess he didn't like that.

I rounded a corner and looked to my side... I could see the hood of the Ford in my peripheral vision. The man behind the wheel was going slow - hoping that I wouldn't notice him there. Too bad for him that I did. I spun to face him and the car jerked to a stop. The man jumped out and leveled a gun at my head.

"Is this the way you treat all guests?" I asked calmly... though I was getting really tired of guns being pointed at me.

"What the hell...?" the man said, getting a good look at my face. "Jeez... where the hell did you come from?"

"Manhattan."

I reached out and grabbed the gun from his hands. In one move I knocked out the clip and tossed the unloaded weapon into a sewer grate. The punk still had his hand held out as if the gun were there in his grip.

"Now, could you tell me which way the Greyhound station is?" I asked.

The man swallowed hard and pointed a shaking finger up the road. "That way," he said nervously..

"Thanks," I offered.

There was a short burst of siren and both of us looked up at the cop car approaching. I pushed my collar up and tried to turn away.

"You're going to have to move," the female officer said, pulling up to a stop beside us and pointing at a sign. "No parking."

The punk just stood there dumbfounded... he wasn't going to say a word.

I cleared my throat and found my voice. "Yes, Officer," I said, "We were just leaving."

She was quiet and her car didn't move. I forced myself to look into her face, but she wasn't looking back at me - her eyes were focused on the ground at my feet. I looked down at the discarded clip and grimaced. I looked at her again and she was staring at my bloody sleeve.

I bolted - I just started to run and didn't look back. I heard the siren again and it drew closer and closer to my back. I turned on my heel and ran down an alley, coming out onto a one-way street. I wondered if the police officer knew that she was chasing the wrong guy as I ran across the street and into another alley. I heard sirens coming from two directions now and figured the only way I could go was up.

I jumped high and grabbed hold of a fire escape ladder, pulling it down. I made my way up onto the roof of an old brick building and looked down. There was a cop car one way and another one on the other side - I took the least resistant route, leaping onto the roof of a shorter building just fifteen feet away. I landed with a thud and a sharp pain went through my foot and up my leg. I rolled onto my shell and sat up, looking at the sole of my foot. It was cut deep and there was a piece of broken beer bottle still lodged in my flesh.

I crawled to the edge of the building and peered down past my watery eyes. The female cop was out of her car, talking to another officer. Their sirens were off now, at least. I looked into the back window of one of the patrol cars and saw the punk who had tried to hold me up. I was more than a little glad that they had thought to get after him, too. I watched them until they finally decided to leave.. I guess they didn't see me as worth going after.

With them gone I set my mind to more immediate concerns. The blood from my foot was pooling and running in an eerie river across the rooftop. I took the can of Vienna sausages out of my pocket and popped the top. I set the can down and wiped the aluminum lid off on my duster and then cleaned it off completely with a few of the handi-wipes from the Greyhound restroom. Afterwards I bent the metal into a kind of makeshift knife. I forced the edge of the newly created blade into the gash on my foot and swore out loud at the pain. It hurt bad. I wondered who the hell was drinking beer on the roof, anyway.

After a few minutes I managed to work the inch-long piece of glass out of my foot. The blood began to flow freely so I took the elbow pad off of my right arm and pulled it as tightly as I could around my foot, managing to cut the flow of blood somewhat, though not completely.

I sat back and pulled my lunch out of my pocket. The crackers were crushed from my roll and one of the apples had fallen out of my pocket somewhere along my run, but the rest of what I had to eat would do me well for the time being. I ate the sausages and about half of the peanut butter, washing it down with the V-8... it surprised me that the bottle hadn't gotten broken during the roll, too.

After my meager feast I made my way back down to the street. I limped as I took each step towards the direction the punk had told me I'd find the Greyhound station. I probably looked crazier than I wanted to seem. The only image that popped into mind was Quasimodo... I had the incredible urge to go ring a bell.

I rounded a corner and caught a glimpse of a new blue Pontiac. A nice car by any accounts... and one that the owner was enjoying the speed of. That glimpse was all I saw... the next thing I knew I was jumping over it. The car screeched to a halt and I landed feet-down on the hood. My foot screamed at the landing and set my knees into a downfall. I rolled off the car's hood, smacking my head against the asphalt.

I lay on the street, dazed, for a few seconds, trying to convince myself to get up and run. I heard the car door open and a young man's voice said "Oh my god! Are you okay?"

I rolled onto my plastron as best as I could to keep him from seeing my face. Still, I felt his hand touch the back of my head. Still dizzy and confused, I jumped to my feet and began to run. I felt the pain in my foot and my arm and now in my head as well. I didn't look to see if the boy was following me and I didn't really care... I needed a place to rest - to hide. Through blurry eyes I found a parked pick-up truck with a cap on the back. I crawled in through the cap's open window and collapsed down onto the truck's bed. I reached out, finding with my hands a plastic tarp. I pulled it over myself and closed my eyes - and slipped into darkness.

* * *

Continued... 


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

It felt like only moments before I woke up, but the chill in the air told me otherwise. My eyes were still closed and I felt the tarp over me, but my internal clock whispered that the sun must have gone down and left me in the relative safety of darkness. Still, I lay motionless and waited, listening for any sound that would tell me there was a human nearby. I heard nothing except for the low hum of machinery - a sound that hadn't been there when I'd begun my unexpected nap.

I uncovered my head and opened my eyes. I was right about it being dark, I could barely see a thing in the truck's bed. I felt around and discovered a bunch of fishing poles, a tool box, and a Styrofoam cooler. I nudged the cooler in the hopes that there may be something edible inside. It was a little heavy but not too much so.

I sat up cautiously and my brain began to spin again, I closed my eyes and waited for the sensation to pass. When it finally felt as if I could look around without passing out, I opened my eyes and looked at the Styrofoam cooler. I took off the lid but found nothing inside except for a few half-empty night crawler containers and an pack of hooks... whoever the guy was that owned the truck, he was certainly a fisherman.

I looked out the cap's rear window at the darkness. I wasn't where I had been before, that much was certain - but only that much. It was too dark to tell anything else except that this place wasn't the city. I could just make out a building about a dozen yards away; my eyes followed the brick structure's lines upward to where the building itself gave way to a smokestack so tall that it vanished into the night sky. I got dizzy looking up, so I lowered my eyes back to what was right in front of me.

It slowly registered in my mind that I was probably at an industrial park and the building before me was most likely the power house. I said silent thanks that whoever owned the truck hadn't looked in the bed - I didn't even want to think about what might have happened to me if I'd have been found. Unconscious, there would have been nothing I could do to avoid being captured - and the Springfield Zoo would have had a new exhibit. I smiled despite myself and wondered if Springfield actually had a zoo.

I shivered - it was very cold in New England and there was no way I was going to get anywhere until I warmed up and my mind got clearer. I slid cautiously out the back window and my foot hit the ground a little harder than I'd have liked. The cold had numbed my foot enough to make me forget the pain until a little pressure reminded me like someone slapping me in the face. I growled under my breath and limped towards the building, grimacing every time gravel slipped under the makeshift bandage on my foot.

I didn't see any windows but there was one door; I tried to turn the knob and it didn't move. Examining the keyhole, I saw it was an old-style lock and easily taken care of. I glanced around the ground and came up with a short piece of thick wire - a perfect lock-pick - it took me only a few seconds to get the door open after that.

Inside it was much warmer and brighter... a welcome change. I slid myself into a convenient shadow as the door creaked shut - and then I had a look around. The place was large - a nineteen-fifties vintage boiler room. The dull hum of machinery that I had heard from outside was now a much louder din that seemed to come from everywhere at once. I felt right a home amid the clanks and hisses.

I had a little fun slipping around the shadows, examining all the machinery that I'd have loved to take back to the lair and rebuild. The main attractions were two very old, very large boilers; one was up and running and the other looked as if it were in the middle of an overhaul. I poked around the parts for a few seconds, wondering what was what in the greasy mess. I confessed to myself that I was a little better with modern machinery than I was with stuff fifty years old. But I also knew it was nothing I wouldn't be able to figure out, given half an hour or so. I was so wrapped up in my wondering that I didn't notice when a man walked up behind me.

"Hey!" he yelled so as to be heard over the machines. "How'd you get in here?"

I turned instinctively and looked the guy in the face. He looked to be around seventy years old - tall and thin, with white hair that stuck out from under an old blue hat with USS Rush in white letters across the front. His eyes grew wide when they met mine and a sudden fear came over me. This guy... at his age, he could very likely have a heart attack from the shock of seeing me. I stood motionless, watching for any of the warning signs.

He just tilted his head to the side and drew his eyebrows together. "Well, I'll be damned," he said calmly. "Where did you come from?"

"Uhm..." I was a little surprised at his nonchalance. "Outside," I said, pointing towards the door.

He looked at the door and then back at me. "What'd you do, pick the lock?"

"Yes... actually," I began haltingly. "I'm sorry if I..."

"Forget it," he said, waving his hand at me. "I keep telling 'em we have to change that thing..." He stared at me again and shook his head, smiling. "God, I thought I'd seen it all..."

He was holding a wrench and tossed it to the floor beside the pieces of boiler. Then, with a nod, he beckoned me to join him. He lead the way through a machine shop and into a room off from the main powerhouse. I limped steadily behind him, not quite sure why except that I didn't have anything else to do at that moment.

Inside the room it was quieter and not so hot as it had been near the boilers. There was a table with several chairs and off to one side there was a row of lockers - directly opposite them was a counter with a coffee maker and a microwave on it. There was also a big old refrigerator that had a calendar and a bunch of notes stuck to it with magnets. On the wall over the coffee pot hung an antique clock that must have been in the building since it was constructed - it still ticked along, keeping time. I made a mental note that it was 11:56 PM.

"I don't know who you are," the old guy said. "But I'll wager you aren't from around here."

"I'm Don," I told him. "And you're right. I'm not from around here."

"New York?"

He had surprised me again. "How'd you know?"

"Your accent."

"I wasn't aware I **had** an accent," I stuttered.

The man grinned. "Trust me, it's there. By the way, I'm Jim."

"Good to meet you," I said, holding out a hand which he gripped and shook enthusiastically. "I'm a bit of a mess..." I said, looking down at myself.

"Yeah, you do look like hell." He pointed to a door across from the one we had come in. "There's a shower in there - help yourself to it."

I smiled and nodded, unsure as to why this stranger was being so kind to me. But for some reason it felt all right. I didn't get the feeling that he was going to turn me in as soon as I turned my back - I trusted him like I had trusted Linda.

The hot water in the shower felt good, though the soap stung in my wounds. I didn't let it bother me much, it was a kind of pain that I could live with. I must have been in there for half an hour, just enjoying the sensation of being clean and warm after so much time being just the opposite. Eventually, with the aid of the smell of fresh-brewed coffee wafting in from the kitchen area, I decided it was time to get out of the shower. I wrapped myself in a large towel that was hanging on a nail outside the shower stall and made my way to a first-aid kit that I had noticed when I'd entered the shower room... I helped myself to some clean bandages for my foot and arm. Glancing in the mirror, I noticed for the first time that I also needed one on my head for where it had met with the street. I stuck a large Band-aid on it and walked back into the kitchen area, still wrapped in the towel.

Jim was sitting at the table with an unlit cigar in his mouth and a newspaper held out in front of him. He looked up from his reading as I entered.

"Here," he said, putting down the paper and reaching for a nearby pair of coveralls. He tossed them to me and I caught them with my injured arm. To my own surprise, I didn't wince.

"These are my nephew, Kevin's. He won't miss them," he continued.

"Thank you," I said, holding the outfit out before me. Kevin, apparently, was not a small man. I took off the towel and hung it on the back of a chair and then slid into the roomy coveralls. I had to roll the leg cuffs up four times and the sleeves up twice before they fit me.

"Sorry I ain't got any shoes your size," Jim said, examining the fit of the coveralls. He pointed to the coffee pot and a stack of mugs. "There's coffee if you want some."

"Thank you," I said again. At that point I really needed a cup of coffee. I limped over to the pot and poured myself a mug full, putting in two sugars and a lot of milk.

"There's some dinners in the fridge, too."

I looked in the freezer and came out with a macaroni and cheese dinner, I popped it into the microwave and waited patiently for the beep. It didn't take long and I took my hot meal and coffee to the table, sitting down across from Jim. He was back to reading the paper but had put his cigar down and was sipping on his coffee.

"Jim, I'm, uh... I mean, thank you for this," I said.

He looked at the mac and cheese and wrinkled his nose. "I don't like that stuff, anyway. That's Tony's, I think."

"No, I mean..." I tried to figure out what I wanted to say. "Well, for not having a heart attack, for starters."

He set down his paper and laughed. "You kidding? My blood pressure's so low you don't test it, you have to dig for it."

I smiled at him. "Why weren't you afraid when you saw me?"

"Should I have been?"

"That's the way it usually works."

He thought for a few seconds. "I've seen a lot over the years," he said, leaning forward. "From what I can tell, I've still got a lot more to see before I die. So, you tell me something - how did you end up in Chicopee?"

"Chicopee?" I asked. "I thought I was in Springfield."

"It's pretty nearby. I live in Springfield."

"Then it must have been your truck that I..." I let my voice trail off.

Jim took another sip of coffee. "So, you gonna' tell me the whole story or do I have to wait for the movie to come out?"

I took a bite of macaroni and a drink of coffee. "It gets pretty complicated."

"Good," Jim said. "Then it won't be boring."

I smiled and began to talk. I spent the better part of an hour telling Jim everything that had happened to me on my unexpected journey. He listened patiently and with an occasional smile. For some reason that smile reminded me of Master Splinter, I guessed that they must be about the same age.

"You have any family, Don?" Jim asked when my story ended.

I looked down at my empty cup and then back up at the human. "Yeah," I said in a low voice. "There's our teacher, Splinter... and I have three brothers."

"They have names?"

"Leonardo, Raphael, and Michaelanglo," I told him.

Jim smiled again. "I guess that makes you _Donatello_, right?"

I was so shocked I nearly stood up. "Wha...? How'd you know that?" I asked, wide-eyed.

"Well, they're named after artists, why not you? Donatello is the only one I know that goes with Don."

I sighed. He was right... "Yeah, I guess so," I said. "You have any family?"

"Two daughters," he said, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. As he talked, he rooted through it. "One of them lives in Florida with her boyfriend." He showed me a picture of an attractive lady with two young children on her lap. "That's Carla. Those are her girls, Aimee and Becca... I think they're four and six now."

"They look just like her," I noted.

Jim grinned. "Thank God they don't look like their father." He pulled out another picture and handed it to me. "That's my youngest, Erica."

I took the picture and examined it. The girl was chubby and about sixteen years old. She had pretty eyes, though, and looked more like her father than Carla had.

"That was taken about two years ago," he said. "I gotta' get onto her about sending me more pictures."

"Where is she?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Japan," he replied. "She's in the navy over in Yokosuka."

"Yokosuka?" I asked, certain that I had pronounced it wrong. "Where's that? Near Tokyo?"

"Actually, its closer to Yokohama... right across the bay."

"What does she do?"

"Works on the tugboats. She's right in her element over there... writes to me all the time about how much fun she has working on the big diesel engines."

"She's an engineer?"

"An engineman, yeah..." Jim said. "You into that kinda' thing?"

I laughed out loud. "Yeah, you could say that. I'm the one that fixes everything at home... builds everything, too..."

"Great," Jim said, taking the pictures back and shoving them in his wallet. "You can come with me on my rounds."

Jim and I walked around the plant, taking readings and checking for leaks. It was interesting, though not exciting. Jim and I got to talking again and I told him about a few of the things I had created to make our lives a bit easier living in the sewers. He smiled and told me that I sounded like him when he was young... always building, constructing, fixing... inventing. I felt a kinship with him and wondered if it would hurt me to stay a little while longer... maybe there was something I could learn from him. Then I remembered that my family didn't even know where I was.

"Jim," I said, following him again into the kitchen room, "is there any chance I could use the powerhouse's phone to call home?"

Jim shook his head. "Uh-uh... it's for local calls only. Damn tightwad higher-ups didn't want to spring for long-distance."

"Is there anywhere you know of that I can call from?"

"You can use the one at my place. I get off work in three hours, think it can wait that long?"

I nodded. "Waited this long..." I said. "Thanks again, Jim..."

He waved his hand at me again. "No problem."

I thought for a few moments and then looked up. "That boiler out there - the one in pieces... are you overhauling it?"

"Yeah, why?"

I shrugged. "I don't have anything better to do right now..."

Jim smiled. "Aw, what the hell..." he said. "Why not?"

We walked out to the powerhouse and got to work.

* * *

Continued... 


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Jim and I worked for hours on the old boiler, taking the occasional break from the grease in order to take readings on the archaic machinery and refresh our coffee. We spoke together like old friends, kindred spirits regaling one another with stories of our lives, each in his own turn being silent with wide-eyed wonder. Jim claimed to be impressed by my ingenuity; in all honesty I think I was more impressed by him, by his wisdom. When I looked at him I saw what I might become in half a century. If I were human, that is.

We were so wrapped up in one another's company that the time just seemed to vanish and it came to the point where his morning replacement would soon be there to relieve him. I wasn't eager for the opportunity to run away again so I suggested that it might be better if I waited outside in the truck. Jim agreed, noting that I had been through enough hell in the past couple days. I gathered together my pads, bloody duster, and purloined cap and stepped out of the warm, noisy boiler room and back into the crisp New England air. There was a thick fog all around and it gave the industrial park an ominous glow as it diffused the dawning sunlight. And it was silent. Over the past hours I had grown accustomed to the bangs and clanks and hisses within the powerhouse. Now, in their absence, it seemed as if there were no noise at all.

Through the mist I saw two muted circles of light and heard gravel being crunched beneath the four tires of an approaching car. The car, itself, rode quietly and I imagined it must have been well-treated... or spoiled. I sprinted to Jim's truck, unable to see it until I was a meter or so away. I opened the unlocked passenger-side door and hopped inside, ducking a little and staying perfectly still so the day-watch wouldn't see me - not that it would be much of a problem with all the fog. I watched the headlights come nearer and pull into a spot beside the old red pick-up truck. I listened as the almost noiseless vehicle's engine was shut off and watched as the headlights were extinguished. The car's door opened and then slammed shut, followed by footfalls on the loose gravel drive as the mechanic made his way to the powerhouse door.

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, letting myself enjoy a fatigue that was, for the first time in days, not related to running for my life or getting hit on the head by Massachusetts pavement. I started to drift off, letting my mind bounce from place to place within my crowded memory of my unexpected journey. I saw Linda's smiling face and the startled look of the guy who had tried to hold me up at gunpoint. My mind shifted to the image of the man in his trunk, staring at me, unblinking as I rooted through his groceries. The memories grew darker as I recalled the addict as he held the child to him. I heard the report of the gun as it discharged, but this time it was not aimed at me - it was still pressed into the child's back. I listened to the screams of the passengers and the terrified anguish of the mother as she called out the name of her baby. I felt a warmness on my face and reached up, wiping the blood away. My anger was extreme and it forced out all other thoughts as I rushed forward. I began to beat on the addict, tearing into the man with all of the hatred in my soul. The passengers stood back and watched in approval as I smashed his body against the windows and seats. When I stepped back from my rage I saw him, broken and bloody... dead on the floor of the bus. I turned and saw the faces of the passengers, mixed expressions of approbation and horror on each one. I kneeled down and picked up the little girl, her body limp and lifeless as I held her to my plastron and began to cry...

Shocked, I woke from the awful images. I hadn't noticed the point when the remembering had become the dreaming, but it had happened. I felt another warmth on my cheek and reached up, brushing away a tear. While awake it had occurred to me how differently the confrontation could have been, how tragic it could have turned out - but there was just something about a dream that made it feel real, that possibility...

I jumped at the sound of a knock and spun to face Jim as he tapped on the outside of the driver's-side window. I reached over and unlocked the door, putting on a difficult grin when he stepped up into the truck. He coughed and cleared his throat and then looked over into my pseudo-composed expression.

"You okay?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, I just drifted off for a couple minutes..."

"Bad dream?"

"Kinda'."

He put a cigar in his mouth and pulled a set of keys out of his jacket pocket. I could tell that he knew I wasn't ready to discuss the dream and he respected that wish. He put the keys into the ignition and cranked it, the truck was loud and surprised me when it broke the quiet. I was more surprised by the fact that Jim, with all his mechanical expertise hadn't fixed it.

"Does your truck always make this much noise?" I asked, putting on my seatbelt.

"Only when it's running," he joked. "I'll get around to fixing it up one of these days... when I get bored."

He put on his own seatbelt and lit the headlights, putting the old Chevy into gear and pulling out of the parking space. The day was growing brighter and the fog lifting away as we drove out of Chicopee, towards Springfield and Jim's apartment. There were trees lining the road for most of the trip, a phenomenon that was unheard of in New York City. When we came out from amid the trees it was for the purpose of crossing an old bridge, large and rusting at the rivets. I looked down at the water below us and smiled.

"The Connecticut River," Jim said.

"I know," I replied. "Reminds me of a river back home."

"Prob'ly just as dirty, too."

Beyond the river and down the road we passed by the Basketball Hall of Fame, which I had previously only seen by foot. I guessed we were pretty close to Jim's place by then.

"I'm right up the road," Jim said, responding to a thought that I hadn't put into words. We drove under an overpass and hit a quick left, Jim pulling the truck into a free space by the curb. "Home, sweet home," he said, killing the engine and shutting off the headlights.

The building was old and made of brick, an Italian convenience store on street level and two floors of apartments above. The store wasn't open for the day yet, its door padlocked and canopy furled, above were balconies with old pots that had long since given up the plants that had once been grown in them. To the left of the convenience store's door was another one, solid wood and painted white with a trio of brass numbers on it indicating the address, we went inside and up the creaky wooden stairs, coming to the first landing and continuing on up to the top.

"My apartment is the only lived-in one," Jim said, sorting through his keys. "Albano made me a deal: I pay half-rent if I fix up the other ones. I haven't got much chance to this time of year, though."

"Albano?" I asked.

"Big family in this town. Decent folks, all..." Jim opened the door at the top of the stairs and we went inside. "Tony Albano owns the store down below. Good kid, a little cocky. I knew his dad."

Inside the apartment I could see what Jim had meant about the place needing to be fixed up. I assumed this was the best of the lot, which wasn't saying much. The door we came in opened to the kitchen, which seemed to have been held back from the 40's. There was huge old gas stove flanked on the right by a white-painted, chipped and rusting sink. On the wall to the far left was a latch-lock refrigerator, the kind that manufacturers had long since stopped producing for safety's sake. The floor was linoleum that was much more yellow than the manufacturer had intended it to be twenty-five years ago; even the walls gave away the apartment's age, cracking and brown from years of cooking smoke permeating into the paint.

But somehow it felt comfortable, lived-in and loved. I looked around me and could see in my mind's eye, families growing up in his environment, coming and going and all the while calling this place home. It made me long for my own home, for my family. I sat down at the wooden table and hung my head.

"Feeling a little lonesome?"

I looked up at Jim and sighed. "Could I use your phone?"

Jim motioned to a door opposite the sink. "The living room's in there, the phone's on the coffee table."

"Thanks," I said.

I stood and walked into the living room and sat on the olive-green couch, it was surprisingly comfortable. Through the door I could see Jim reaching under the sink and pulling out a bottle of dish liquid. He set to work washing out a stained coffee pot and I shifted my attention to the phone. As I dialed April's number I wondered what I would say to her and my brothers and Master Splinter. I knew that they all must have been very worried and had probably spent many hours looking for me, that knowledge made it that much more difficult to call.

_"Hello?"_ I heard the woman's voice say on the end of the line. That was the sweetest sound I had heard in so long...

"April?" I said, trying not to sound too emotional. "It's me."

_"Don?"_ she said. _"Don! Oh, my god, are you ok? We've been looking all over the place for you! What happened? Where are you?"_

I smiled, it was a little nice to hear that I was so missed. "I'm okay," I told her. "Where are the guys?"

_"Out looking for you. Where are you?"_

"Springfield, Mass."

_"How the hell did you get there?"_

"It's a long story," I said. "Can you get the... hold on..."

I put my hand over the receiver and yelled into the kitchen. "Jim! Can I give them your number?"

"Go ahead. It's on the phone," he yelled back.

I put the receiver back to my mouth. "April?"

_"Still here."_

"Can you get the guys to call me here?"

There was a pause as April got a piece of paper and a pen. _"Go ahead."_

I found the number written in marker across the front of the phone. I read it off to her and she read it back, just to be certain she had gotten it right.

"Have them call me as soon as they can, ok?" I said.

_"No problem,"_ she replied. _"God, it is so good to hear your voice! We were so worried, you have no idea..."_

"I know," I said. "I'll talk to you later. Bye"

_"Bye,"_ she said and hung up.

I hung up the phone and sat staring at it for several seconds, almost as if I expected it to ring right then and for my brothers to be on the other end. It didn't ring. I could smell the enticing aroma of fresh-brewed coffee wafting in from the other room. I needed another cup like I needed a hole in the head, but I wanted one, so I stood and joined my new human friend in the kitchen.

"Get through to them alright?" Jim asked, grabbing two mugs down from the cupboard.

I nodded. "They're gonna' call me back."

He filled up the cups, making mine the way he knew I liked it; after all, he had seen me make it for myself several times at the powerhouse. He set the steaming mugs down on the table and lowered himself into one of the rickety old wooden chairs; I sat in the one across from him. He reached into a box of doughnuts that I hadn't noticed and pulled out a honey-glazed one, then pushed the box across the table to me. I helped myself to a chocolate doughnut and took a bite. It was stale, but good. Jim was picking at his own pastry and I couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" he asked.

I tried to compose myself. "Last night I saw you drink seven cups of coffee," I said. "Now you're on number eight. I was wondering if you ever ate anything... I guess you do."

He smiled back. "Only 'cause my stomach wouldn't shut up."

"Caffeine, the fifth food group," I jested.

"The breakfast of champions," Jim offered in kind. "Along with two-day-old doughnuts."

I took a sip of the coffee, it was even better than the stuff he had made at the shop. For some reason, though, it didn't seem to be keeping me very awake. There was a knock at the door and I spilled some of the dark liquid onto the front of the coveralls Jim had given me. He tossed me a kitchen towel and I began to clean it up.

"Who is it?" he yelled, sounding annoyed.

"Me, Unc!" came the reply.

"I don't know nobody named **_me_**!"

"It's Pete! Cmon, let me in!"

"Go home!" he yelled at his nephew. "I don't need any of your crap today!"

"I just need to wait here for Ian and Michael, is that ok?"

"No," Jim said. "I need some sleep. I just got off work and I'm dead tired."

"I won't bug you, I promise!" Pete whined.

"Good-bye, Pete..."

I heard the kid swear and stomp down the stairs. He was obviously not happy with his uncle.

"You didn't have to send him off on my account," I said. "I could've hidden."

"It wasn't on your account," Jim said, taking a sip of coffee. "I wouldn't have let him in, anyway. I love the kid, but him and his friends are pains in the ass."

We sat silently for a long while. Our doughnuts disappeared and our coffee dwindled, but neither one of us spoke. I was thinking about my family... what April had said about them being so worried about me. Such is the penalty for stability, if it had been Raphael gone for a day and a half we would have passed it off as one of his moods. Sometimes I wished I weren't so predictable.

The phone in the other room rang and Jim got up to answer it, I followed close behind.

"Hello?" he said after picking up the receiver. "Yeah, he's here." He turned to me and held it out. "Guess it's your family."

I sighed and took the phone. I still wasn't sure of what to say, so I just began to talk.

"Hello?" was all I managed to get out of my mouth.

All at once there were three worried voices asking me where I was and if I were okay. April had activated the speaker phone in her apartment so none of them would have to wait... and none of them did.

"Hey, hey, hey!" I called out. "One at a time, okay?"

The voices calmed down and I heard Leo speak up. _"Don, are you okay? What the hell happened?"_

"It's a long story," I said. "I was following this guy at the Greyhound station, he got on a bus, I went after him, then all hell broke loose. I ended up in Springfield, Mass."

_"What happened?"_ Mike asked.

"A lot," I said, not wanting to get into it on the phone. "Could you guys get up here and pick me up, by any chance?"

_"No prob,"_ Leo said.

_"I'll drive!"_ Mike volunteered.

I heard Raph let out a sarcastic laugh. _"Sure, Mike, you can drive. That way we can see if there really** is** an afterlife."_

_"Haw, haw..."_ Michaelangelo replied flatly.

"Is Master Splinter there?" I asked once the guys were done with their verbal sparring session.

_"I am here, my son,"_ I heard our sensei's calm voice say. _"I am glad you are well."_

I smiled, that was Splinter's way of saying he was terribly worried about me. "I'll be home soon, Master. I'm sorry I had everyone so concerned."

_"Safe journey,"_ he said. I almost began to cry.

_"Do you, like, have an address there, or do we have to put out an ad in the paper?"_ Mike asked.

I heard Raph mockingly say _"Missing, one turtle - green with purple bandana - answers to the name of Donatello..."_

"Hold on," I said and looked at Jim. "Can I use your address?"

Jim rooted through some envelopes and handed me an unopened electric bill, the address was written across the front. I read it off to the guys.

_"Okay,"_ Leo said. _"Me and Mike and Raph will head out right away."_

"It was good to hear you guys arguing again," I told them. "I miss it."

_"We miss you, too, dude,"_ Mike said.

_"See you soon, ya' big braniac,"_ Raph added.

"Bye."

There was a chorus of 'good-byes' and I heard the guys still arguing about who would drive as the speakerphone was switched off. I hung up my end and smiled at Jim.

"Thanks," I told him.

"Don't mention it," he said, yawning. "Just try to get some sleep."

He left, heading for his bedroom. I stretched and laid myself down on the soft couch. It didn't take me long to drift off again, but this time I did so with trepidation. I hoped I would not have another nightmare...

* * *

Continued...


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

The nightmare didn't come until I woke up. 

Through closed eyes, I could feel myself being stared at. Whispered words of shock and disbelief greeted my ears and made their way into my still half-asleep mind. The voices belonged to young men, teenagers from what I could tell. I kept my eyes shut, not willing to give away the one advantage I had at that moment: they thought I couldn't hear them.

"What the hell is that?" one of them asked. "Is it real?"

"Geez..." another said, this one had a deeper voice than the first. "That is **freaky**! Hey, touch it!"

"Man, you must be drunk!" the first exclaimed in a low voice. "I ain't touchin' that! It'll probably bite me..."

I felt something poke my arm and I ventured a look past half-closed eyelids. One of the kids was nudging me with a broomstick, the other was nowhere to be seen.

"Check this out!" the one I could see said in an excited voice. "I think this thing is alive!"

The deep-voiced kid came into view, carrying a camera. "Hey, step back..." he said to his buddy. "I'm gonna' take a picture of it..."

I didn't want that... there was no way I was going to let them take my picture. The way I figured it, they had already discovered me... I might as well give them a show. I opened my eyes full and the boys jumped back. The one dropped the camera and ran into the kitchen, leaving his friend behind. I sat up on the couch and stared at the kid as he stood, gaping. He began to stutter out a prayer and bolted for the kitchen. I followed, walking slowly in a way that I knew the kids would consider abnormal - not much of an effort, considering I still hurt from head to foot from the day before. Walking into the kitchen, I turned to face the deep-voiced kid. He was standing by the table muttering swear words and cracking his knuckles.

"What the hell is going on out here!" I heard Jim say. I looked towards his bedroom door, he was standing there in long john bottoms, his gray hair mussed. I had been so intent on frightening the kids that I hadn't even considered that Jim was still there. I noticed from the look on his face that he wasn't any happier to see them as I had been.

I heard a noise behind me and turned just in time enough to see the coffee pot before it hit my face. The glass shattered and the still-hot coffee poured into my eyes, burning them and forcing them shut. My reaction time was way off after all that I had been through, I kicked myself mentally for not anticipating a desperate move like the one the teen had taken. The self-damning didn't last long, though, as I felt something hit me from behind. I fell to my knees and stood up again just as fast, throwing a fast punch out in the direction I knew the kid was still standing. I hit something that felt like it was maybe his shoulder, but at that point it was hard to tell. I heard him yell and felt another strike, this time it was harder - much harder. I sensed myself falling but I didn't feel when I hit the floor.

-

I tried to open my eyes. That was all I could do... try. I reached up and felt my face, touching the gauze that was taped there. My head hurt, too. It slowly began to dawn on me that I had been knocked out - again. That was getting tiresome. I felt around me and discovered that I was on a bed, Jim's bed, most likely... the sheets smelled like Old Spice and cigars. Past a dull hum in my ears I could hear the sound of voices in low conversation - one man and one woman. I recognized both of them. I pulled myself up to sitting and put my feet on the floor, my brain exploded in pain.

"Damn!" I said out loud. The voices stopped and I heard the sounds of chairs being pushed away from the table, followed by a few quick footsteps in my direction. I gritted my teeth in a faux grin.

"Don!" I heard Linda exclaim. "Settle down."

Jim laughed. "See, told you the kid was tough."

"Be that as it may..."

I began to stand and felt a hand on my arm, guiding me up. "Linda, how'd you find out I was here?" I asked, accepting the aid in the gentleness of her touch.

"I called her," Jim's voice went on ahead of us as the woman and I walked arm-in-arm into the kitchen.

"You know her?" maybe it was just the knock on the head, but I felt as if I were getting more confused with each passing word. Linda guided me into a seat. "How?"

"Nuh-uh," Jim said from across the room. I heard the beeping of the microwave as he pushed a few buttons. "You told me about a nurse named Linda who worked the night shift at _Mercy_..."

"Last night... yeah," I said. "I told you at the shop."

"From there on out it was easy enough to find her number."

The microwave beeped again and I heard a cup being set down in front of me. I reached out to grab it and found my hand being guided by Linda's. I lifted the not-too-hot cup and took a drink. Coffee... of course.

"Instant," Jim said, I heard him pull the chair out from under the table and grunt as he sat down. "Damn kids owe me a new coffee pot."

I laughed. It made my head hurt, but I didn't really care. "What did they hit me with, anyway?"

"Cast-iron skillet," the old fellow said. "Great for frying, not so great for the head."

"Speaking of which..." Linda began in a scolding tone. "Why didn't you call me when you hit your head the first time?"

"Huh?"

"Jim told me you got hit by a car."

"Uh... yeah," I confessed sheepishly. "I'm kinda' not used to getting medical help."

"I guess you wouldn't be," she said. "You know, for a while - until I got Jim's call, I was actually beginning to believe that you were a dream." I heard a smile in her voice. It was nice. "Anyway," she continued, "getting hit by the car and then smacked with a frying pan hasn't done anything great for your head. You should try to take it easy for a while. Try to rest."

"How about my eyes," I asked, resisting the urge to reach up and touch them.

"They should be fine. I didn't see any major problem, I covered them to keep them protected until they heal and they're going to hurt for a while but there shouldn't be any permanent damage. I took a good look at them, I think they are a little tougher than human eyes, at any rate."

"Good to know," I said with a sigh. It was a relief to hear that I wasn't going to be blinded. "I wanna' thank you guys. I'd never have made it here if not for you two."

"No problem, we might just call on you one of these days," Jim said.

"You can count on me for that," I told him. I felt Linda's touch on my arm again. I put my hand on hers and squeezed it gently. "I promise."

For a few seconds the room was quiet, then there was a knock on the door. Jim's chair screeched across the old linoleum and I heard him by the door as he said "who's there?"

"We're looking for Don," a muffled voice said from the other side of the door.

"Leo?" I yelled as I jumped to my feet. I hit my shin on a nearby chair and fell back onto my butt on my own seat. "It's my brothers," I announced.

The door squeaked open.

"Don!" Mikey yelled. Barely a second later I felt his arms around me in a big bear hug. "I missed you, man!" he yelled in my still-ringing ear.

"Hey, hey!" Raph yelled. "Let the guy breathe, will ya?"

Mike let go and I heard a trio of gasps. Mikey had been so eager to see me that he hadn't noticed the bandages on my eyes, and his hug had kept the others form seeing it, as well.

"What the hell happened to you?" Raph asked in his most concerned tone.

"Long story," I said.

"And getting longer by the moment," Jim added.

"Uh... hi," Leo said.

I shook my head, forgetting to be polite in the midst of the reunion. "Sorry, guys. This is Jim and Linda, they've been... helping me out here. Jim, Linda... these are my brothers: Leo, Mike, and Raph."

"Good to meet you," Leo said.

"Hi," came Mike's usual greeting.

Raph, true to form, said nothing.

"I see the family resemblance," Jim joked.

"How did you get here?" Linda leaned closer to me as she asked the question of the guys.

"Borrowed April's new car," Mike said in my direction.

"You've gotta' be kidding!" I cried out. "There is no way she'd have let you borrow it!"

"Well, the van broke down," Leo said. "And without you there to..."

"She let you borrow the _Eclipse_?!"

"She was worried about you, man," Mike told me. "We all were."

"Now tell us what happened to you," Raph said.

Jim cleared his throat. "Anybody care for coffee? This is going to take a while."

Leo and Raph opted for coffee and Mike had a glass of ice water as I told them everything that had happened. Jim was right, the story was getting longer by the moment and some of the details were beginning to escape me. Thankfully, Jim and Linda were there to fill in the gaps. I got down to the part about being hit in the face with the coffee pot and knocked out with a frying pan and decided to end the telling there.

"...And I woke up, a few minutes later you guys arrived."

"Maaannn!" Mike said. "I'd hate to be you, bro!"

"Who were those kids, anyway?" Leo asked.

"Michael and Ian, my hotshot nephew's friends," Jim said. "They busted in here again. Jackasses..."

"They've done that before?" Raph asked, his ire rising.

"Never busted up a guest in my place, no... but they **have** broken in before."

I could almost hear the gears begin to grind in Raph's mind. "Want us to fix that up for you?" he asked, a decidedly sinister tone to his voice.

"How's that?"

Raph began to laugh low, a few seconds later he was joined by Mike and Leo in their own chuckles. I already knew what Raph had in mind... and I had no problem with it, whatsoever.

-

It wasn't easy traveling around without eyes to guide me, but I managed with the help of my brothers. It was good to be with them again, it hadn't occurred to me how much I had missed them. And it had only been two days... it felt like so much longer.

"This is the place," Raph said as we stopped our skulking.

Jim had given us directions to the house where the kids spent most of their evenings, usually tossed up in some drug-induced stupor and half-aware. He also gave us his blessing to scare the living hell out of them. Mike pried open a window and I smelled the lingering smoke of pot as it wafted out from the inside.

"Oohh-ee!" Mike exclaimed. "That stuff stinks!"

"Will you pipe down!" Leo admonished our brother. "Geez..."

We waited a few minutes for the air inside to clear out then we climbed through the window. I could hear snoring and a TV somewhere within the house. We followed the sound to what felt like a small room.

"Okay," Leo whispered. "Don, we got here three guys. Teens. One has long hair back in a tail, he's wearing khakis."

"I remember him," I said, recalling the deep-voiced kid from earlier. "Another one spike-haired? Dyed blond?"

"Yeah."

"It's them."

"Well, then..." Raph said, the old evil tone in his voice. "Shall we?"

I couldn't help but smile. "You know it!"

I heard the light switch being thrown and three bodies being lifted up off the floor. There were murmurs of confusion and then screams of recognition.

"It's it, it's it, it's it! It's the thing!" The spike-haired kid yelled. "Oh, god! I told you! I told you! It's going to eat us!"

I guess it was only then that they realized there was more than just one monster.

"Let go! Augh!" the deep voiced kid yelled.

"Ian! Ian! What the hell are these things?" I heard Pete's voice say, he had been the only one of the three to not actualy see me.

"Quiet!" I yelled, trying not to smile. I put on my most sinister face. "You tried to kill me..." I began.

"No! No! He did!" the deep voiced kid said.

"**You** hit him! You..!"

"What the hell are these things?!"

I notched my voice down to demon mode. "We are something you were never meant to see... and now that you have... you can never be allowed to tell about us!"

"They're gonna' kill us!"

"Kill **him**! He's the one that hit you!"

"I didn't see you! I wasn't there!"

I could hear Mike begin to chuckle. I heard three bodies hit the floor and my brothers joined me before them.

"There is only one other option..." Raph said. "You must never tell a living soul about us. Ever!"

"Okay! Okay! I can do that!" the deep-voiced kid stammered. "Right, guys?! We can do that!"

"**And**," Leo said, beginning to enjoy the ruse - uncommon for him, for certain. "You must be nothing less than kind to Jim."

"Uncle Jim..?" Pete said. "But... what does he have to do with..."

"**Just do it**!" Raph bellowed.

"One more thing," Mike said, in a softer tone than Raphael's. "This stuff... make it disappear."

I wondered for a few moments what Mike was referring to, but then I began to her the sound of plastic bags being gathered up. Three sets of feet ran into another room and then I heard the sound of a toilet flush. "Good call, Mikey," I whispered with a smile. At least the drugs that the kids had on hand were gone. The three teens came back to us much slower than they had gone.

"Okay," I said, wiping off the smile. "If you ever break the rules we have set out before you, we will return - and you will see what real pain is." I told them.

I heard a couple of "yes, sirs" and one of the boys whimpered. Me and the others left the way we came in, happy with ourselves.

"Do you think they'll do it?" Mike asked, helping me out the window.

"Maybe," I offered. "Maybe not. But it was worth the try, at least."

"Damn, I haven't had that much fun in... I don't know how long!" Raph exclaimed.

I nodded. It had been fun... I just wished I could have seen the looks on the kids' faces.

Back at Jim's apartment he offered us to spend the night. It was a nice offer, but we didn't really want to be traveling by the light of day.

"Call me," Linda said. I felt her push a piece of paper into my hand. "It's my phone number."

"We'll call," Mike said. I'd heard that tone in his voice before.

I leaned over to him and whispered "she's too old for you."

"Says who?" he protested.

I smiled and held out my hand to where I knew Jim was standing. He gripped it and shook. "Gonna' miss you around here." he said. "You sure make life interesting."

Down the stairs and out the door, my brothers and I piled into April's new car, a tight fit for our shells - but at least the seats were soft. A good thing for my bruised body. Mike and Raph began to argue about who would drive back, I wondered if I would have to listen to those two all the way back to New York. Somehow, that thought was more of a comfort to me than anything else. I was back with my family, we were on our way home.

I once heard a quote, I can't rightly remember who it was that said it, but it says something about traveling the world looking for what you truly need and then returning home to find it. I may go on the road again, of my own volition... but I don't think it will be out of the need to escape, though I am sure that urge will again strike me. Next time I believe my travel will be so that I can feel what I felt at that moment - as my brothers and I left for home. I will go, but only so that I may return.

* * *

**The End**

* * *

_Yes, that was a pretty old story, but I hope you liked it, anyway! If anyone is at all interested in Jim (who is based on my father) or anything else regarding this story, you can go to my Author's Info page and click on **Efiwyvan** (or just click on "**where it comes from**"). Thanks again!_

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